Sum delicious crack
by ohmygodwritersblock
Summary: Sherlock has a relaxing bath, and discusses some of his deepest secrets with a close friend (and where is John?). Crack ensues. Johnlock towards the end. Rated T for possible mind images of Sherlock in the bath. This was a collaboration. And probably my only crackfic to be posted on this account, because reasons. This is very dear to our hearts. So like it.


**ohmygodwritersblock: Gosh, she's over again. She just won't leave me alone. So we're writing some more crack.**

**Stuff about me (on her suggestion): I like half frozen raspberries (microwaved) and blue sunglasses and johnlock and crack (johnlock stuff) and I like ArthurDent2 and I like summer because school is long and boring and I like grey eyes and green eyes and long walks on the beach.**

**ArthurDent2: Firstly, I would like to point out that yesterday she invited me over, secondly, she loves me so shut up. Also, since she actually wrote stuff about herself (which I was joking about), here are some facts about me: I'm wearing a scarf (apparently I have to add that it is not my scarf but belongs to ohmygodwritersblock even though I gave it to her), but by the time you read this, I probably won't be wearing it anymore, so, ignore that. BYE. (and like our story, because it's good, but by this point we haven't actually written anything, so it might not actually be... but I like to think it will)**

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Sherlock was having a bath. He really liked bubble baths, it was the only time he could truly get away from it all, even John. But before he could actually enter the bath, he needed to make sure that everything was in order:

Water temperature at exactly 40 degrees celsius (check)

Approximately 4 cubic centimeters of bubbles for each 1 cubic centimeter of water (check)

His favourite toy rubber duckie (check)

His soothing bath time tunes (check)

His fluffy towel (check)

Sherlock placed the needle on the record, and swayed with the music as he placed his towel on the towel hanger. He undressed and got into the bath, grabbing his duckie, giving it a squeeze and smiling as it quacked. "Hello to you too, Dr. Anas Platyrhynchos III." The other two had fallen victim to some horrific lab accidents (never Sherlock's fault, of course). John had bought him a new one after Sherlock had cried for days over the loss of his dear yellow friend.

Sherlock relaxed amid the fragrant bubbles, that smelt of woolen sweaters (it was very hard to find bubbles like this, but after much moaning and many complaints, Mycroft had finally intervened and hired some scientist to invent such bubbles). He _really_ liked woolen sweaters.

Content with his bath, and the aroma that surrounded him, he leaned over the edge of the bathtub and reached for his rubber duckie. He placed the duck in the water in front of him and gleefully began to pick up some bubbles and swiped them on his face, making a bubble beard. He smiled to himself.

Dr. Anas Platyrhynchos III glared at Sherlock, but did not speak.

"What?" Sherlock demanded, but the duck remained silent. "Oh, I see! A bit jealous are we?"

"..."

"Don't worry Dr. Anas Platyrhynchos III, you can have a beard too!"

Sherlock grabbed a small handful of bubbles and placed them on the duck's face. The duck did not react in any way, but Sherlock knew that he was smiling, on the inside.

Sherlock splashed around for a while, creating huge storm waves for Dr. Anas Platyrhynchos III to navigate, before he grew serious. He regarded his duck with a grim expression.

"My friend, I must tell you something, and I know that you will take it within your strictest confidences." The duck said nothing, and Sherlock was glad he had a friend who knew when words were not needed. "I have been having certain… feelings for someone quite close to me. Romantic feelings." The duck was hiding his surprise well. "I know what you're thinking, but it is not you, my feelings towards you are strictly platonic. It's not that I don't like you," he reassured him, "it is just that it always has been - always will be ...John."

The duck just stared at him. "I know, I know. It is quite a shock, but I just needed to tell someone. I would usually tell John about these things, but not this time, for obvious reasons." The duck gave him an understanding look, but still said nothing, clearly a sign of respect and a gesture of friendly comfort. "I knew you would understand." Sherlock gathers the duck in his long arms, in a completely platonic embrace. He was so lucky to have such a great friend.

Sherlock sighed, and placed the duck back into the water, and sinking his head into his hands he exclaimed, "I just don't know what to do, Dr. Anas Platyrhynchos III! Do I tell him my feelings? But what if they aren't returned? I don't think I could bear it if our friendship were to suffer because of my misguided feelings for him. I don't want to jeopardize our friendship by making my feelings known, but if he does feel the same way, I don't want to wait any longer, you know. And what if the feelings are returned, and he wants me to- cook for him or something" The duck regards him with a knowing look. "You're right," Sherlock sighed, "but still, I want to, because sometimes I deduce John, and I see him also liking me, but I think I might deluding myself into seeing what I want to see."

"..."

"Why must life be so trying?" Sherlock complained vehemently, gesturing wildly, creating large splashes, turning the duck face down in the water. "Dr. Anas Platyrhynchos III! I'm so sorry!" he cried out, hastily plucking the duck from the water's depths and placing him upright. "I just got a bit carried away with my emotions. I didn't mean for it to affect you so much."

The duck said nothing, clearly annoyed.

"Oh don't be like that, ignoring me is terribly childish. Oh please forgive me."

Dr. Anas Platyrhynchos III did not reply he was being uncharacteristically stubborn.

Just then, John burst through the bathroom door, gun in hand.

"John, what are you-"

"Sherlock drop the duck!"

"John, what? No!" Sherlock cried, hugging Dr. Anas Platyrhynchos III closer to his chest, protectively, all arguments forgotten.

"Sherlock you don't understand! That duck, he's not- he's not who you think he is. He's been lying to you all this time!" John kept the gun trained on the small, yellow duck.

"It looks like I've been found out." The duck said grimly.

Sherlock dropped the duck in shock. "You-"

"Yes, Sherlock. I was never just a rubber duck, never just your bath time pal. But I'm sure by now you've figured it out, you always were a clever boy." The duck laughed, and he began to rise into the air. Sherlock watched, stunned, as the duck's eyes began to grow red.

"Dun dun duuuuun," whispered John quietly.

Sherlock whipped his head around to glare at him, "John, this is hardly the time for dramatic sound effects."

"Right, sorry." John turned his focus back to the duck. "You won't get away with this."

"Won't I , John? I think I am, because now you know who I really am, you know you cannot destroy me!" He cackled maliciously. Sherlock unmoving, held still by shock.

"No, you won't!" John proclaimed, pulling out a sword from the depths woolen sweater.

"My, my, John. How quaint, but you do know that no mortal sword can kill me, don't you?"

"Good thing it isn't then! Mycroft made it for me! Created from pure thought!" John declared triumphantly.

"But you won't use it will you, little Johnny? Not if it hurts Sherlock!" John turned to face Sherlock, who was still frozen in place.

"Sherlock, what is he talking about?" John demanded. Sherlock looked from John to the duck, unsure how to reply.

"Tell him, Sherlock! Tell him of our bond! How you confide in me and only me, your most deepest, darkest thoughts." Sherlock's mind worked furiously, searching for a solution to the problem. And suddenly, he found one. If Sherlock shared his secret with John as well, he and the duck would no longer have a special bond. But was he willing to sacrifice this? Yes. He would do it for John.

"John, I need to tell you something."

"Sherlock, go ahead, tell me," John said kindly, "But for God's sake, hurry it up!"

"John," he paused, no, he had to tell him, "I love you."

"Noooooo!"

"Yes! You see? Our bond is broken, now you have no protection," he yelled towards the duck, then turned to John, excitement in his eyes, "Do it." He gave him a twisted smile and stepped forward towards the bath.

He raised his sword and slashed it down upon the duck. It screamed in ear splitting agony at contact, and suddenly burst into flames. Sherlock flinched back, covering his face, protected by his arms. John smiled triumphantly. He then looked at Sherlock, and realised he was still in the tub, and the bubbles were starting to dissipate, there was a silent, awkward moment, and he quickly turned away.

Sherlock, while John was facing away, rose from the tub, and threw the towel on.

"Uh, John. All is… covered," he mumbled. John laughed nervously.

"Yeah... uh, good." And faced him. "So your duck was ah, secretly evil, then."

"Yes." And before they knew it, they were both laughing so hard that neither could stop. But then their eyes met and they both abruptly stopped, and John cleared his throat.

"So… that thing that you said…"

"Oh yes. That…"

"Did you, uh, mean that?"

Sherlock looked everywhere but at John, and nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Ah, yes."

"Well, then." and John squared his jaw. Seconds later, John strode up to Sherlock and held his face in his hands, giving Sherlock a warily look, as if asking, _is this okay?_, before Sherlock responded by leaning forward and brushing his eyelashes on John's cheek. Then, he pulled away, his eyes filled with love.

"Was that your first- your first kiss?" John asked breathlessly.

Sherlock nodded yes and leaned forward, grazing their cheeks together. "I love you so much." And then he froze, realising that John had not said it back yet.

"Don't worry Sherlock, I love you too." And Sherlock smiled.

"I'm still not cooking for you."

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**Ohmygodwritersblock: Hiya. So that's finally done. We've been watching the Great British Bakeoff though, so that may or may not have influenced that cooking statement. We know what (or who) the duck is, but you don't. Ha. (Hint, its not Moriarty) And you shall never, ever know. Love you all.**

**ArthurDent2: This story is very close to the heart, so we hope you like it as much as we do. It also made us have many small outburst of crazy laughter, so we hope you do too. As for the duck's real identity, leave that to your imagination, because we are not telling you. :P**


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